DCI Warren Jones. Paul Gitsham

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       Chapter 17

      Moray Ruskin pulled himself out of the tiny Fiat 500, the car lifting slightly as he removed his eighteen-stone bulk. Alex had bought the car before meeting Ruskin and it was definitely not suited for someone of his size. Unfortunately, Ruskin’s own car was having its service and MOT, so he was stuck with his partner’s for the next couple of days.

      The Middlesbury Outreach Centre, known also as the Phoenix Centre, had been in its current location for over thirty years, according to the plaque outside. Sandwiched like an ugly duckling between newly completed luxury apartment blocks and prime office space, Ruskin wondered how much money they’d turned down from developers for the land it stood on. He and Alex had looked at buying a so-called ‘affordable’ one-bedroom flat in the new complex and decided to hold off until one of them won the lottery.

      Ruskin’s parents never failed to mention how cheap houses were back in Scotland whenever he rang home. However, despite the pair meeting at Dundee University, Alex had always planned to move back to England to take advantage of the increased job opportunities near London. As living in the capital was a complete non-starter financially, they’d compromised on Middlesbury, barely thirty minutes by fast train from central London, and where Ruskin had – in the words of his parents – turned his back on his university education and joined the police. His parents still didn’t believe that these days the police was a largely graduate profession.

      The inside of the outreach centre was painted a soothing blue, the walls covered in pin boards advertising services ranging from substance abuse counselling to HIV testing, free adult education classes, and support groups for victims of abusive relationships.

      The reception desk was behind reinforced glass, a bank of monitors showing alternating views from cameras situated inside and outside. A sternly worded sign warned that verbal or physical abuse of staff, volunteers or other users would not be tolerated, with the police called if necessary. The caution was repeated in a half-dozen languages. The ubiquitous red and white No Smoking signs had been supplemented with similar prohibitions on alcohol, drugs and weapons.

      Despite all this, the door to the reception desk had been propped open with a wastepaper basket and the place had a relaxed, pleasant vibe to it. Music came from a nearby open door, along with the clack of pool balls.

      ‘Hello officer, how can I help you?’

      The young woman behind the reception desk wore a dark-blue headscarf and a badge identifying her as ‘Nadia – counsellor’.

      ‘That obvious, eh?’

      ‘Practice. We haven’t reported anything, and there’s only one of you, so I’m guessing you aren’t here to arrest anyone?’

      ‘No, just a chat about one of your clients, if you don’t mind.’

      ‘We’re quite strict about what we say without a warrant,’ she warned. ‘We need to be otherwise our clients won’t trust us.’ She paused. ‘I’m due a break. Let’s go somewhere a bit more discreet.’

      The staffroom was locked with a mechanical keypad, so Ruskin had to hold both plastic cups of coffee as Nadia let them in.

      ‘Who can I help you with?’

      ‘Lucas Furber.’

      She frowned slightly. ‘We don’t always know our clients’ full names. Do you have a photo?’

      Ruskin passed over a copy.

      ‘Oh yes, I know him.’

      ‘He was arrested by Middlesbury Police for being drunk and disorderly back in January. The arresting officers were concerned that there may be mental health issues.’

      ‘Well, before we go any further, you should know that I’m not prepared to discuss Lucas’ mental or physical health without a court order.’

      ‘That’s fair enough, I just want to talk to him. Do you know where I can find him?’

      ‘To be honest, I haven’t seen him for a while.’

      ‘It’s really important that I speak to him. Can you think of any places that he might be?’

      She pulled her lip. ‘The last time I saw him was before Christmas. He said he’d got a room in Purbury Hostel. I’ve no idea if he is still there, they are quite strict about behaviour and have zero tolerance for drugs and alcohol.’

      ‘And you think that might have been a problem for him?’

      ‘I wouldn’t be surprised,’ she sighed. ‘Like I said, the last time he visited it was at the end of December, and he was clearly full of the Christmas spirit if you get my drift. We don’t allow drinking or drug-taking on site, but we’re realists, especially that time of year, we know that they may have been drinking or using before they arrive here. We usually have a quiet word and if that fails tell them to go home and sleep it off. As long as they aren’t violent or abusive, all is forgiven next time they turn up. It normally works; one of our regulars gets sent home about once a month. He always comes back the next day to apologise. Usually with a bunch of flowers he’s pinched from somebody’s front garden.’

      ‘But Lucas didn’t come back?’

      ‘No. To be honest, it wasn’t a big deal at first. He was apparently a bit noisy СКАЧАТЬ